


This Darkness

by TeddyTR



Category: X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Days of Future Past, Romance, Telepathy, Withdrawal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-05
Updated: 2014-06-05
Packaged: 2018-02-03 13:33:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1746485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeddyTR/pseuds/TeddyTR
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Post-Days of Future Past)</p><p>Charles wants to put down the medicine that represses his powers. He plans to do it alone. His plans are ruined by a certain someone, who appears on his doorstep and refuses to leave...</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Darkness

_“I know you didn't bring me out here to drown_  
_So why am I ten feet under and upside down_  
_Barely surviving has become my purpose_  
_Because I'm so used to living underneath the surface_ ”

_Lifehouse: Storm_

***

 

“Just what the bloody hell?” Charles yelps the moment he sees who stands on his doorstep. He immediately tries to bang the door shut, but it stops mid-motion and opens up again, on its own. Well, not _entirely_ on its own, of course.

 

Erik, _bloody Erik_ strides into the house like he owns the place. He is dressed a tiny bit humbler than before – no cape, but still all dark crimson, to maintain the intimidating façade for sure. And there is that awful, detestable, disgusting helmet… Charles can’t help stepping backward. He curses himself for it. He hates every bit of this, every single bit.

 

“What the _fuck_ are you doing here?” he hisses at the man, who closes his door so casually it makes his blood boil. Erik doesn’t answer. Charles continues before he can think about what he’s saying. “Came to dump another two-ton metal chunk on me? Crippling me is really becoming a thing nowadays.”

 

At that Erik _winces._ He dares to wince.

 

“No, Charles” he says with a calmness that is so out of character. “I didn’t come to hurt you. I’ve never meant to, and you know that.”

 

Charles tries _really_ hard not to explode. _Strange_ , he thinks, _how we reverted roles in these years._ He tries, but his serenity left him long ago. His control is nowhere to be found, like he’s back at square one, back in those old days, when he was just like Erik, maybe even worse… Charles shakes his head. This is not the time.

 

“I’ll ask once more” he growls. “What are you doing here?”

 

Erik eyes him for a long moment. “I came to help” he finally says, and Charles is sure he heard it wrong.

 

“You what?”

 

“You shouldn’t do this alone, Charles.”

 

Charles looks at him with mouth hanging open. No. He hasn’t just said that, has he? He of all people…

 

Something snaps and Charles finally looses it.

 

“You” he roars. “You are telling me not to be alone? In case you have forgotten, _Erik_ , it was _you_ who left me alone, and you did it _twice_ now, but who’s counting, really!”

 

“Charles-“

 

“I don’t know who told you what I was going to do here, but if this is one of Hank’s brilliant ideas, tell him I’m going to _murder_ him when this is over!”

 

“Charles, look-“

 

“I am not done! Whatever made you think that you could just waltz in here, it was utterly wrong. You are the last person I need here for this, Erik.”

 

Charles literally pants. Erik just watches him, his face an unmoving mask of calm. He steps closer and again, Charles can’t help flinching back.

 

“It’s a pity you think that” the metal-bender finally states, staring into his eyes with a look that burns holes into his soul. “Because I am staying regardless of your opinion.”

 

 _He cannot be serious. This is not happening,_ Charles thinks. But the look on Erik’s face is telling him otherwise. Suddenly, his anger shifts. Something cold and sticky replaces it, a feeling that is way too close to fear.

 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about” he half-whispers, trying and failing to keep out the tremble from his voice.

 

Erik’s face soften, which would be a sight to see in any other circumstances. Now, it only makes Charles’s stomach sink even more.

 

“You are underestimating me, Charles” Erik says, almost gently. His hands move to the helmet (hateful, hateful thing) and followed by Charles’s baffled stare, he takes it off, and sets it on the small table near the door.

 

“You are coming off of your medicine. You shouldn’t be alone when the withdrawal starts. So, I am staying.”

 

***

 

He hears Charles mutter “this is ridiculous” while storming into the kitchen. Erik sighs and follows him.

 

He knew it wasn’t going to be rainbows and unicorns. But it is still… difficult. Charles is different, there are no two ways about it. It doesn’t cease to be a shock to see him like this, and it pains Erik more than he is ready to admit. Because it is his fault. If not all, then a big part of it. He remembers the time when he wished Charles would change…

 

In the kitchen, Charles is leaning heavily on the counter. He flinches as Erik steps closer. He keeps doing that and it bothers Erik more than anything else.

 

He remains calm and patient, approaching Charles as if he were a trapped wild animal. He wonders if this is the way Charles approached him before… before everything happened.

 

“Charles” he says on the softest tone he can manage (it is not as soft as it should be, he is not Charles). He stays on the other side of the counter. He doesn’t want to see Charles flinch away again.

 

There is no reaction.

 

“Charles” he tries again.

 

There is a broken sigh, and Charles slowly looks up at him.

 

“I am being serious here” Erik says, feeling the urge to make him understand – he is not leaving. Not this time.

 

“That’s exactly what I fear.” It is barely a whisper. “But you can’t do this to me, Erik.”

 

The tone makes Erik’s blood run cold. Since when did Charles sound so… lost.

 

“What do you mean?” he asks, but he is not sure he wants to know the answer.

 

“I am not…” Charles’s voice breaks. He closes his eyes for a second, and continues with a firmness that looks alien on him. “I have a good reason for sending even Hank away. Maybe you noticed, but I’m not the same as I was before. I have to relearn control and that won’t be a joyride. And since it was exactly you who pointed out many times how you hate me in your mind, I don’t see why you should stay.”

 

 _That’s not the real reason,_ Erik thinks, but that last sentence still stings. But it is his fault as well. He told everyone how their powers were beautiful and how they shouldn’t hide or restrain it – yet he never told Charles. If anything, he told him the contrary. He always felt transparent around Charles, and it took him a considerable amount of time to figure out that it had nothing to do with telepathy… And here they are, after all this time, and all those things Erik did and said, and Charles tries to seem firm, but his eyes are the same – they have that emotion so intense it makes Erik want to look away and never look away at the same time.

 

Once again, he feels wide open.

 

And there is no telepathy involved.

 

“I am sorry” Erik chokes out, because he has no idea how to explain all that.

 

Charles’s eyes widen, it was surely not the answer he expected.

 

“I’m sorry” Erik repeats, leveling his voice. “I know I said some harsh things about your power. I’m sorry about that. It wasn’t fair, as you never did anything but help me. I can see that now. I was just…” he trails off.

 

Charles doesn’t let it go. “You were what?”

 

Erik swallows. He came here knowing that if he wants to make any progress, he’ll have to start talking. And, God, he _does want_ to make progress, so…

 

“I was scared you’d see what I was and be repulsed by it.”

 

The silence is so heavy it is hard to even breathe. Charles stares at him with an unreadable expression. Erik feels as if his muscles turned to cold, rigid iron.

 

It shatters so suddenly, it makes Erik jump. Charles’s shoulders slump, he lowers his head, breaking the eye contact, and lets out a long, shaky breath.

 

And of all things, Charles says: “You are such an idiot.”

 

Erik blinks. “Excuse me?”

 

Charles doesn’t look up at him again, just continues as if he’s talking to himself. “But I guess I am an idiot as well. Quite a useless telepath, really.”

 

He finally lifts his head. Erik gasps inaudibly. Under all that not-Charles-like hair and stubble, something Charles-like flickers alive.

 

“You are not scared now?” he asks, a faint but present taunting in his voice.

 

Erik has to clear his throat before speaking. “I’m afraid I have shown you everything I had in me, both voluntarily and involuntarily. And yet, you still haven’t kicked me out so…”

 

“I did tell you to go.”

 

“You told me I ‘should’ go. Not quite the same thing, Charles.”

 

Charles presses his lips and continues to look at him questioningly.

 

Erik gulps. “No” he says after a couple of seconds. “No, I’m not afraid anymore. Unless you say I should be.”

 

“No!” Charles interjects quickly. “You never had a reason” he adds quietly.

 

Erik lifts one eyebrow. “Oh.”

 

“Yes, ‘oh’.”

 

Again, there is a silence, but heavy with something entirely different.

 

Charles stands up straight, and brushes away his too long hair. “It’s ironic.”

 

“What is?”

 

“Our situation is even more reversed than I thought.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“I won’t have control, Erik” Charles says, becoming dead serious. The flicker of his old self disappears completely. “If you really want to stay, you will see me as you’ve never seen before. As much as I wanted you to trust me, there are a lot of things I haven’t told you. I’m not sure you will like what you see.” The last sentence is barely a whisper.

 

Erik itches to go around the counter and get _close_ to Charles, to comfort him somehow, anyhow, to do _anything_ the other needs. But he feels it’s not the time. And he won’t push it. Not when he is closer to get a second chance than any other time in his life.

 

“I guess, we will see” he says, trying to force a bit of humor into his voice.

 

Charles glares at him, but his muscles ease visibly. Erik takes that as the first victory of the day.

 

***

 

Charles sits at his desk, in his study, and he still has a hard time believing that the figure reading a book on the couch is not an apparition his mind made up. He waits for him to disappear into thin air.

 

But Erik stays.

 

And how did this happen anyway? Charles saw a small glimpse of the future, he knew that someday they will manage a truce, a friendship even, but this, this resembles neither. And it is way too soon. The timing couldn’t be worse. Charles tries to be nonchalant about it, but the mere thought of Erik staring into the long-locked rooms of his mind makes him want to run as fast and far as he can.

 

Erik of all people…

 

Erik who told him, _just now_ , that he was afraid, that Charles would see the monster he thought himself to be. Oh, the irony. _We will see who the monster is,_ he thinks sourly. He has to focus on that, because he cannot begin to think about second chances. That’s just… that’s not happening. Charles was never that lucky. Not that he would deserve it anyway…

 

The pain comes so suddenly, even his thoughts halt for a second.

 

The scar on his back lights up with white-hot fire. He can’t help gasping loudly.

 

“Charles?” he hears Erik say from the couch. He wants to answer, but the pain makes him choke on air. He doubles on himself, his hands clutching the desk as if it was the edge of a cliff.

 

“Charles.” Erik’s voice seems to be closer now, but Charles squeezed his eyes shut seconds ago, so he can only guess.

 

“Charles, breathe.”

 

Charles wants to laugh. ‘Breathe’ he says, as if it was so easy. _Damnit, Erik,_ he thinks in despair.

 

Slowly, the pain begins to fade. When he finally can, Charles inhales deeply.

 

Erik says his name again, and somewhere in his subconscious, Charles registers that he kept doing that in the past few moments. He forces his eyes open. Erik kneels in front of him, one hand on his shoulder, the other covers his own white-knuckled hand, that still holds onto the desk’s edge like a lifeline.

 

“Is it better?” Erik asks, and there is concern all over his face. He is very close, and he is touching him like it’s a natural habit of theirs.

 

Charles blinks several times. “Yes” he breathes. The pain is gone, but it left a familiar, sore feeling in his back. The sore feeling that won’t go away, but it will become worse after every surge of pain until he cannot feel his legs. Again.

 

“Do you want some painkillers?” Erik asks.

 

Charles shakes his head. “No! Absolutely not.”

 

He gets a glare. “If you are in this much pain-“

 

“No, Erik. Soon my telepathy will start to surface. You don’t want me medicated when it comes.”

 

Erik’s face falls. “You don’t want medication because I am here? Charles that’s-“

 

“No” Charles grunts again. It seems ‘no’ is becoming his usual come back. _Very creative, Charles._ He sighs. “It’s not what I meant” he starts again, trying to be less irate (and less scared as hell). “It is not because you are here. I… I’m not sure how will I build up my defenses again, and I don’t want anything clouding my mind. I’m afraid it will be hard enough without that.”

 

Erik watches him _closely_ for a long minute. Despite the urge to look away, Charles holds his gaze.

 

“Thank you” the other man says, and it leaves Charles gaping. Saying surprising things out of the blue seems to be Erik’s new habit.

 

“For what?”

 

“For giving me a real reason.”

 

For a second, anger flairs up in Charles. Because what the hell? Is Erik saying that he wasn’t honest before? He was more honest than politeness would have allowed.

 

But the anger is gone when he remembers what he said only hours ago. ‘You can’t do this to me, Erik.’ He wasn’t honest explaining that one, was he. So Erik noticed. Great.

 

Ignoring his guilty silence, Erik continues. “You should at least lie down a bit. What about I bring you a towel damped in hot water for your back? It should help.”

 

“Okay” Charles mumbles, not knowing what else to say to that.

 

He stands a bit shakily. Erik steadies him, hands on his arm. Charles gulps, nods at him, and escapes to his room as fast as his state allows.

 

***

 

It’s worse than he thought it would be.

 

When the first wave of pain hit Charles, it was bad enough – hearing that strained gasp made Erik jump up from the couch instantly. Those few moments when Charles went rigid, his eyes shutting, his hands clutching the desk, those were… But it passed quite quickly. Charles looked tired, a bit sore, but a little rest and a hot compress was enough to get him back to his new, grumpy self.

 

And Erik thought, _well, that wasn’t so bad._

 

Then, the _real_ spasms began.

 

And now Charles lies on his bed, face buried in the pillows to muffle the cries, and Erik cannot do anything, but pressing the hot towel into his torso. He tries to soothe him with small words, hoping that they can at least reassure Charles that he is not alone.

 

Erik wonders if it was similar after Cuba.

 

The thought makes him wince. He did leave Charles alone. Of course, the boys stayed, but Erik understands, he knows what Charles meant. There was always only one person to whom he allowed to show weakness. And that was Erik. Erik should have treasured it more, a telepath cannot have many friends after all, but he was too consumed in the chase, and after that, too consumed in the war. The war he knows is still coming.

 

But at least there are some things he managed to figure out. Okay, not without help. Logan was not a man of words, but he was straightforward enough to make Erik think.

 

‘This war has more fronts’ he said. ‘We fight prejudice of course. But we fight ourselves too. We fight to handle who we are. That’s the fight Charles fights. And he was winning from where I come from. Until the Sentinels came and we lost everything. You can argue about a lot of things, but one thing is sure: you and him, you complete each other. You two could have saved us all – at least that’s what you said before I came here.’

 

It sounded ridiculous at first. Erik didn’t understand. He still thought that the only way is his way, the future only made that even clearer.

 

Even though it was hard to see Charles in that shape…

 

And Mistique was there, she had the chance to slay the enemy. And she chose not to.

 

The reactions of humans surprised Erik. Half of them said what he predicted, but the other half – they said exactly what Charles did.

 

So maybe there is hope. Because it is easier to win a war when you can make some of your enemies turn to your side. Charles can do that. And Erik can deal with the others.

 

This idea sounded good for multiple reasons. One of them is he and Charles being on the same side, instead of fighting each other.

 

And Erik found he wanted that. He wanted that surprisingly strongly.

 

“I wasn’t there last time” he murmurs to Charles, not sure that he is heard. “But I am here now. And I plan on staying. If you still want me to.”

 

Somewhere in the back of his head, something warm blossoms. Erik goes still, immediately recognizing the presence.

 

“Charles?”

 

There is a gasp, and the warmness retreats hastily. Erik finds himself missing it.

 

“I’m sorry” Charles mumbles, lifting his head up a bit. “I’m sorry.”

 

There is fear and shame in his voice and Erik feels his heart sink.

 

“It’s okay” he whispers, leaning closer to the other. “Charles, it’s okay.”

 

“But you…” Charles whispers back. “I cannot-“

 

“Shh, I said it’s okay.”

  
“But-“

 

“You have my permission, Charles. I trust you.”

 

There is a long silence.

 

“Not the best time for that, Erik” Charles says, with a tiny lightness creeping into his tone.

 

Erik smirks. “Timing was never my strong point.”

 

“Very true.”

 

“Shut up.”

 

The warm buzzing returns, bleeding into his thoughts. It is nothing articulate, only a mere sign that he is not alone. That neither of them is alone…

 

***

 

Charles can feel it. He can feel it coming and there is nothing he can do.

 

He stands on the shore.

 

The tide roars towards him.

 

It swallows the sun.

 

A wave of cold makes him shiver.

 

The tide is almost here.

 

 _Erik_ , Charles whimpers.

 

It crashes into him…

 

***

 

Erik stands on a shore.

 

He frowns.

 

Something is not right here.

 

The sun is too bright, the sand is too white, and the ocean is too blue.

 

He doesn’t know this shore.

 

Or does he?

 

He wants to take a step forward, only to find that he can’t. He can’t move. At all.

 

_What?_

 

He looks up and he sees a figure further away.

 

It’s Charles.

 

“Charles!” he shouts, because thank God, he can at least speak.

 

Charles doesn’t turn. He keeps watching the sky.

 

And it hits Erik hard.

 

_This is Cuba._

 

More like a version of Cuba. An _inner_ version of Cuba.

 

And it dawns on him.

 

It began.

 

Charles warned him about this. That maybe he will be caught up in the telepath’s mind and maybe Charles won’t be able to control where to go or what to see. And he said maybe there will be bad things…

 

“Charles!” he shouts again, trying to get the other’s attention.

 

“It’s okay, Erik” Charles says without turning. “I understand.”

 

“What?”

 

He hears a strange whistling sound. He looks up to the sky, and dread makes his blood run cold. Missiles. A big horde of missiles are coming towards them.

 

Erik tries to reach with his powers.

 

But he has none.

 

“Charles, run!” he screams, fighting the invisible restraints that are bounding his body.

 

“It’s okay” Charles repeats. “Just go. I understand.”

 

“I’m not going anywhere!”

 

Charles turns his head at this. Erik gasps. It’s the Charles from back then, from Cuba. His hair is shorter, he has no stubble, _Gott_ , he looks _so young_.

 

“It’s okay” Charles says again, with a broken, watery smile. “I understand. I understand.”

 

“No!” Erik screams as the missiles hit the shore and everything is swallowed up in fire…

 

***

 

There is a long moment of darkness. The only sound is a distant whispering, faint, but heavy and menacing.

 

Erik blinks.

 

And he is standing on the shore again…

 

And again…

 

And again…

 

***

 

“Charles, please” Erik chokes.

 

The whistling sound comes again. Charles turns and smiles, again. “It’s okay. Just go. I understand” he says again, like a broken mantra.

 

Erik feels something twist in him.

 

“That’s enough” he snarls. “Charles, cut this crap! You hear me? I am here! I am staying here! It is _not_ okay! Let me move!”

 

Charles blinks at him confused. “I am not…” he says frowning.

 

Suddenly, Erik can move. And he is running. The missiles’ screech fills the air. He crushes into a gaping Charles. They fall on the sand and Erik moves to shield the other with his body.

 

This time, it’s Charles who shouts “No!”

 

The darkness comes before the missiles hit the shore.

 

***

 

Charles gasps awake. He tries to sit up, but pain flairs up in his back and he gasps once again.

 

“Erik” he coughs.

 

“I’m here” Erik answers immediately. He sounds strained.

 

Oh God.

 

“I’m sorry” Charles pants. “God, Erik, I’m so sorry.”

 

“I’m fine, Charles. Are you?”

 

He feels someone sitting on the bed beside him. He peeks up at Erik. Again, there is no irritation, no anger, only concern. Charles is surprised and relieved at the same time to see that. He considers lying for a second, but it doesn’t seem fair. Erik is trying after all, so he should try as well.

 

“No” he says.

 

“Your back?”

 

“It hurts. And I’m hearing the whisper of others. Even though we are this far from the city…”

 

Erik moves closer and puts a hand on his arm. It’s warm. Charles sighs.

 

“I’m sorry” he says again.

 

“Stop it, Charles.”

 

“It might get worse.”

 

“I know.”

 

 _Why are you doing this?_ Charles thinks.

 

 _Because it feels right to be here. I want to be here,_ Erik thinks back, and only now Charles realizes that their minds are still connected. That he is clinging onto Erik’s mind, using it as an anchor. It grounds him, steadies him, and makes him remember who he is. An anchor which is Erik himself, something that means a _constant_ connection, however subtle it is. He shouldn’t be doing that.

 

_Don’t, Charles. Leave it._

_You’re okay with this?_

_Yes. Surprisingly so._

_Usually, my mind is a more pleasant place…_

_Well, you cannot say that about mine, so if you’re okay with this, I am as well._

_Your mind is breathtaking, Erik._

Charles feels himself blush. He said a bit too much. But Erik just smirks at him while shaking his head.

 

“I still don’t know what you see in me” he says.

 

“I see people differently” Charles says, shifting in the bed.

 

“I guess you do” Erik murmurs, helping him arrange the pillows. “Would you like some tea?”

 

“That would be lovely.”

 

Erik smiles at him, and walks out of the room. Charles wonders when it became so domestic between them.

 

***

 

It’s been four days now. It seems longer.

 

There is a constant phantom pain in Erik’s head, a pressure that won’t go away. It’s not pleasant, but he is sure Charles is feeling something much worse. Considering his state, it’s amazing how he can still shield the anchor.

 

The anchor.

 

Erik likes the sound of that.

 

Through the anchor, he can feel that Charles is working hard on his defense. The whispers of other minds come in ebbs and flows. Sometimes the telepath manages to filter them. Other times they are so strong that Erik has to blink away a memory that is neither his nor Charles’s.

 

Charles doesn’t have much energy left to filter his own thoughts. And sometimes that’s hard too. Erik catches glimpses of what Charles lived through after Cuba, after the war in Vietnam, and it’s… It’s close to unbearable.

 

Yet, there is warmness beneath everything, a warmness Erik now understands is exclusively meant for him. The way Charles looks at him, the way he accepts his presence like it was only natural for them to be around each other – it’s unbelievable after what happened.

 

It’s a bond that was always there.

 

It’s the anchor.

 

Erik feels a faint smile inside his head. He looks up from the book he’s been reading to meet a pair of brilliant blue eyes. Charles is not smiling on the outside, but he is closest to it since all of this started.

 

Erik smiles back anyway. He is smiling considerably more nowadays. He’s trying to help Charles with that, but it actually feels good for him as well. Such a small thing…

 

Charles opens his mouth to say something, but it never gets out. Suddenly, his already paled skin gets even whiter.

 

Erik shots up from the armchair he’s been sitting in, and flies to the bed.

 

“Charles, what is it?”

 

From this close, he can see that Charles is shaking. He is staring down on his lap, hands clutching the blanket.

 

Erik crouches next to the bed, and covers Charles’s hand with his.

 

“Charles?”

 

There is a hollow whisper in his head.

 

_I can’t feel my legs._

 

***

 

Yes, it was coming. Charles knew it was coming. And the feeling still strikes him like a punch in the gut.

 

_He is back in the hospital room, lying helplessly on a too white bed, listening to the voices of his doctors’ minds, telling him about permanent damage, about disability, about no hope, while all the other voices whisper death, pain, illness, fear, and it is just too much, and how is he supposed to protect the boys if he can’t even walk, and what will I do, what will I do, what will I do and-_

 

_Charles!_

 

Charles blinks. He is in his own bed. Erik is holding his hand.

 

Erik is here.

 

_Yes, I am here. It’s fine. I’m here. Are you?_

_Yes. I’m sorry._

_I told you to stop that._

 For several moments, Charles focuses on breathing. Then, he begins to build a wall around the memory. _I am past that,_ he thinks to himself. _I got through that. I can manage now._ Slowly, the panic fades. It retreats to its place and the blurring between past and present disappears.

Erik holds his hand the whole time. None of them move to do anything about it.

 

***

 

Erik lets out a tired sigh. It’s late at night and Charles is finally asleep. It wasn’t an easy afternoon…

 

Again, only glimpses of terror and despair reached his mind, but it was more than enough. He can still _smell_ that hospital room.

 

Erik shakes his head. He was truly very foolish. Charles back then made everything look easy. He knew every answer, even for questions you haven’t asked yet. Erik thought he would be alright. On the shore, he thought, whatever happens, Charles would get through it, no problem. He left to tend to his war reassuring himself with that.

 

Even though somewhere in the back of his mind he knew. He saw the cracks on the mask, he saw the need for an equal, for a _partner_ , he saw his own desires mirrored, and he chose deliberately to ignore it all. Because he was a weapon, a monster, not capable of giving, and surely no good for anyone.

 

And look at Charles now.

 

Look at how Erik’s departure broke him. How he kept loosing bits of himself, until only this strange, suffering man remained. Look how he tries to stand nevertheless.

 

And look how he looks at Erik.

 

Erik can see himself sometimes, through the anchor. He is not a weapon. He is not a monster. He is the _anchor itself_. Charles needs a ground to stand on and he is _giving_ him that. For whatever reason Charles chose _him_. Erik finally understands that. And it is like a river breaking through a dam. He has to make things work, because he cannot deny this anymore. He cannot leave again.

 

He can only wish Charles will agree when this is over…

 

Erik sighs again. He is exhausted, but somehow, he finds himself unable to fall asleep. He glances at Charles one more time, to make sure he is fine for the moment, and stands to go down to the kitchen.

 

The halls of the mansion are dusty and dark. _It’s a pity,_ Erik thinks. It must have been a remarkable place for a private school. And maybe it will be, again. But there is no point thinking about that now…

 

Erik steps into the kitchen. He strides to the fridge, opens it, and takes out some milk. He closes the door of the fridge and-

 

And he freezes.

 

There is someone standing in front of the kitchen door.

 

The door he just came through.

 

It’s a child.

 

A child is staring at him and Erik is sure there are no children in the house. There shouldn’t be.

 

“I thought you were a burglar” the child says, making Erik jump.

 

“What?”

 

“What are you doing here?”

 

“I’m-“

 

“Who are you?”

 

Suddenly, there is an overwhelming voice thundering inside Erik’s head, repeating the question: _Who are you?_

 

Erik drops the milk and almost falls down on his knees.

 

He knows this voice. It’s rough in the head and thin outside, but he knows it.

 

“Charles” he chokes.

 

The thunder in his mind stops. The child looks at him, expression cold and unmoving, but his head tilts a bit to the side.

 

“You know my name” he says. “But I asked for yours.”

 

“Erik” Erik hurries to say. There is something really wrong with this child. With Charles.

 

“Erik” Charles echoes. “I know that name.”

 

“Yes. You know me. You can look if you want to.”

 

There is a flinch, so subtle, so quick, that Erik is not sure it was there at all.

 

“Yes, I can” the child, _Charles_ , says tonelessly. “But I don’t want to. I don’t want to look at _anything_. It just _happens_. I can’t help it.”

 

“I know” Erik gulps, although he doesn’t. Charles never told him how it was before all that rage and serenity stuff. Truth to be told, Erik never thought there was anything before that. How stupid of him. “It’s okay. It will be okay” he says, feeling the urge to say something to comfort this statue of a child in front of him.

 

“It’s okay?” Charles repeats. There are cracks in his voice. _Uh-oh_ , Erik thinks.

 

 _It’s okay, you say?_ his voice says menacingly in his head. _It’s okay for me to see_ everything _? All your memories, all your secrets, all your private thoughts?_ The voice gets louder. _It’s okay for me to see you as you never wanted to be seen?_ It is screaming now, making Erik’s knees give up the fight. _It’s okay for me to be in your head, to understand you better than anyone else, to understand you better than myself, just so you can HATE me for it?!_

 

“Charles, please” Erik whimpers, clutching his head.

 

The voice retreats so suddenly it makes him gasp. He looks up from where he is kneeling. The child stares at him with the same, unmoving face, only there is a single tear sliding down on his cheek.

 

“I’m a monster” Charles says evenly.

 

Erik wants to laugh at that. But he can’t because this child is so broken. He can feel it in the low murmur of his mind that is nothing like the warm buzz he knows. It’s dark and just so terrified. Yet, the child looks at him with an expression cold and still, like iron. And Erik thinks of himself as a child.

 

But even he wasn’t this… torn.

 

“I’m a monster” Charles repeats. “I know that. I don’t need anyone telling me what I already know. I don’t need anyone tell me things I can _see_ clearly.”

 

“Charles-“ Erik begins, even though he is not sure what he is about to say. He is interrupted anyway.

 

“She stood where you did” the child says, tone changing only a tiny bit.

 

“Who?” Erik asks, suspecting the answer. Charles’s eyes slowly moves beside him. Erik follows his gaze, and he sees Raven standing next to him. Only she is a little, blue girl now. So small and so lost.

 

“I had no right” Charles whispers. He keeps his eyes on Raven. “I’m sorry. I had no right to bring you here. I was selfish. I didn’t want to be alone _here_ , with _them_. I had no right to offer anything. There was nothing I could give. And in the end, you left me, like you should have done from the beginning.” More tears are wetting his face now. “You should have run the first time we met. I should have told you to run.”

 

There is something in the background. Cluttering, thumping, shouting. Erik frowns.

 

“This house was never meant for children” Charles says quietly.

 

“I don’t like what you’re implying” Erik growls, speaking without thinking. Once, Charles told him his father died when he was four, and he had a step-father and a step-brother. He didn’t tell anything else. He never spoke of his mother either. But if any of these people hurt Charles… well, Erik hoped they were already dead.

 

“They are” the child-Charles says, locking his gaze with Erik’s again. “And I did it.”

 

The sounds in the background quiet down. There is a long, static silence.

 

Erik feels very, very, _very_ cold, and not out of empathy for the alleged victims.

 

“How?” he rasps.

 

For the first time, Charles’s expression changes. It becomes utterly sad.

 

“If I tell you” he says. “You will see the monster I am. The monster I tried to hide and cover up with rage, with serenity, with both. You will hate me. And I’m not sure I can handle you hating me, Erik.”

 

Erik opens his mouth to say it’s ridiculous, to say he could never ever hate Charles, and _do you know who you are talking to, kid_ , but there is a sudden, cutting silence that makes words get stuck in his throat.

 

Black tendrils rise from everywhere, swallowing up the room around them.

 

“Not that I can stop now” Charles whispers. “The doors are open.”

 

There is darkness, but Erik can _see_.

 

 _He sees a woman. She is shaking, the ice in her drink rattles. She looks at Erik with disgust and fear._ You are mad _, she says._ You are a monster _. She doesn’t really say. But Erik knows. She drinks more and more. Slowly, she withers._ I did that _, Erik thinks,_ it’s because of me _._

_He sees a teenage boy, big and brute, and he sees a grown man, violent and rough. They hurt him._ You’re a monster, _they say. They really say. Erik tries to hide Raven. He knows he should get her out, but he fears he would lose himself without her. Then, the man hurts Raven. There is a fire. The man wants to flee._ Stay, _says Erik to his mind. He burns. The teenage boy comes at him, bellowing. He wants to kill him. He wants to kill Raven. Erik screams at his mind. The boy stops. He is not dead, but he is not alive. His thoughts are forever shattered._

_Raven looks at him terrified. Terrified_ of _him._ She will go, _he thinks is panic._ Forget, _he says to Raven’s mind._

_Then, he locks it away. This monstrous mind of his. He can’t change it, but he can lock it up. Between rage and serenity, always between rage serenity. Never let it go. Never use its full power. Never tell anyone._

_Never tell him,_ especially _not him, never hurt him, stay out of his amazing mind, you have no right, no right to say what you say, no right to do what you do, no right to love him, how can you do that to him, he suffered enough, why would he need_ you _of all people, he had enough monsters in his life, you have no right, you have no right…_

There is a soft, wet noise that draws Erik from the thoughts that are not his. He blinks several times, trying to find himself again. His vision is blurry. He touches his cheeks. He is crying. But these are not his tears.

 

He looks up and sees the child, sitting on the floor, surrounded by darkness. His face is buried in his hands and he sobs quietly.

 

It takes Erik a moment to find his body and make it move. He crawls on all fours to the child. And he pulls him into his arms.

 

The boy’s breath hitches. He fights the embrace, but Erik holds him close.

 

“I’m sorry” he mutters. “I’m sorry for what you have gone through. I’m sorry.”

 

The child stops fighting him. He slumps in his arms, head falling onto Erik’s chest, wetting his sweater with tears. Erik only holds him closer.

 

“I’m sorry you were alone” he continues. “But you are not alone now. I’m here, Charles. I’m here. I’m staying right here.”

 

The child clings onto him, sobbing harshly. Erik keeps murmuring into his hair, until darkness swallows up both of them.

 

***

 

Charles stares into the mirror. He looks awful. His eyes are red-rimmed, his face is hollow. He looks _haunted_.

 

Only it’s somehow the opposite.

 

There is emptiness inside his mind. An empty cage. He let go of something big and horrid, and now he is drained, but not in an entirely bad way.

 

He feels awful anyway.

 

There is a spike of concern from the anchor. Erik tries his best to give him a bit of privacy after… after what happened in his mind. Charles almost smiles at the effort. Almost.

 

 _I’m fine,_ he sends.

 

Somehow Erik manages a raised eyebrow inside his mind.

 

This time, Charles feels a small smile pulling his lips.

 

 _I_ will _be fine_ , he corrects.

 

At least he hopes he will be. Things don’t look too bad though.

 

 _Except I_ _do look bad,_ he thinks.

 

With a sudden determination, he grabs the razor. He puts foam on his cheeks, and he shaves. Slowly. He finds himself enjoying it very much. It’s… deliberating in a way.

 

Erik snorts at that.

 

 _Asshole,_ Charles thinks.

 

When he’s done, he looks at his face again. It doesn’t resemble his old reflection. He doesn’t look that young anymore. But it is still better.

 

And Erik approves.

 

Not that it matters.

 

Charles brushes his hair from his eyes. He looks at it. And then, he glances at one of the drawers.

 

_Erik?_

_Yes?_

_There is a scissors in that drawer._

_…And?_

_Would you… would you help me with my hair?_

There is a pause.

 

And Erik sends him a picture of himself, all young and shiny, saying ‘don’t touch my hair’ like a teenage girl, and how Erik found that ridiculous, amusing and cute at the same time.

 

Charles goes red.

 

_Very funny. Will you come or should I do it alone?_

 

“I’m here” says Erik from behind him and Charles almost jumps out of his chair.

 

“For fuck’s sake, Erik!”

 

“Keep up the swearing. I like that.”

 

“Fuck you” Charles says and he’s almost laughing.

 

A pleased smile spreads on Erik’s face. He takes out the scissors from the drawer, and stands behind Charles. He stops there. Slowly, he runs his fingers through Charles’s long locks.

 

“You sure?” he asks quietly.

 

“Yes” Charles breathes. “Make it short.”

 

“What about…” Erik trails off, in his mind there is a foggy picture of Charles, his hair shorter than before, but long enough to stand up in every direction, long enough for him to grab gently and-

 

“Okay” Charles hurries to interrupt, feeling a blush creep up on his neck.

 

Erik chuckles.

 

When he hears the first snip, Charles closes his eyes.

 

 _Thank you,_ he thinks.

 

Erik’s hand never halts as he thinks: _anytime, Charles._

_I will be fine,_ Charles thinks, and he feels Erik smile in his head. _I will be fine,_ he thinks, and after a very long time, he finally believes it…


End file.
